


take my hand

by soare



Category: Messiah Project - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-02
Updated: 2015-08-02
Packaged: 2018-04-12 12:03:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4478624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soare/pseuds/soare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He’s done a lot to make him wonder if he deserves to hold this warm hand, if he’s allowed to cling onto this soft, gentle warmth that is Mamiya Seiren.</p>
            </blockquote>





	take my hand

Ariga has always thought of himself as a decent person.

Minus the part of his dark past of growing up as a killer, and also ignoring the fact he’s terrible at making friends; but all in all he’s at least a good cadet. He follows orders, doesn’t question authority and gets the job done. All of his missions have gone successful with merits, because Ariga is always alert and ready to do what needs to be done.

So he’s not sure how or why he is currently distracted by his Messiah, who is sitting next to him at the round, clothed table they were seated at with a few other unimportant faced guests. They were currently on a mission. One where Yuuri and Shirazaki snuck past the security in order to gain access to their target’s computer; while Mamiya and himself stayed in the party ballroom to keep an eye on the attendees.

Though right now Ariga isn’t even looking at their target at all. Eyes that were normally alerted and sharp, now looked soft as he leaned his elbow on the table surface with his face his in hand. They were staring down at Mamiya’s white glove-covered hands, as he twiddled his thumbs around as a means to keep busy (and probably some nervous tick that Mamiya just does).

He doesn’t even realize the extent of his staring, until Mamiya leans into his vision with a concerned look.

“Are you okay?” Mamiya asks in a quiet voice, to not attract the attention of surrounding guests.

Ariga blinks once, tearing his eyes away from his Messiah’s hands to his face. He wonders what raised worry in Mamiya, but his face shows no signs of the confusion. “Nothing…”

Somehow Mamiya doesn’t quite believe Ariga from the prolonged silence and staring, but he doesn’t press on any further when he leans back into his own seat. Mamiya’s hands soon go back to having a life of its own, and this time they decide to tap and drum his fingertips at the table top.

“If you say so,” Mamiya doesn’t sound the least bit convinced, but Ariga knows that Mamiya _knows_ when to stop.

Eventually silence falls back between them, and everything goes back to normal. Except Ariga is still staring and Mamiya is confused more than ever.

“Um,” Mamiya pipes up and absentmindedly raises a hand to scratch at his cheek. Nervously he avoids Ariga’s gaze for a moment to look at the dance floor, then he looks back but with a small smile tracing his lips now. “Do you… want to dance?”

Out of confusion – and honestly this was the last thing he expected – Ariga remains silent. Though his single raised brow revealed all the confusion that Mamiya needed. “You look bored… and this way we’ll be closer to our target so it’s easier to keep an eye on him.”

A full smile was on Mamiya’s face when he was done explaining himself, beaming with pride on his on-the-spot thought. It is hard to say no to that face, not that Ariga would ever admit aloud, but he figures it wouldn’t hurt to go along with his Messiah’s idea.

“One dance,” Ariga decides as he scoots his chair back and stands up.

He’s waiting for Mamiya to stand up and then – before he knows it – Mamiya stands up, takes Ariga’s wrist into his hand and leads them over to the dance floor. He finds them a nice, little clearing voided of people, before he comes to a stop and turns around to face Ariga.

Ariga can feel eyes on his back from people who are looking at two, full grown men standing in the sea of dancers; and he begins to have second thoughts about this whole dancing ordeal. That is until he feels Mamiya take his hand, put it on his waist and then holds the other hand in his own.

“I’m nice, so I’ll let you be the man and lead,” Mamiya smiles and puts his hand on Ariga’s shoulder.

Now that they were perfectly positioned, Ariga lets himself smile a bit when he gives Mamiya’s hand a light squeeze before leading them off into the song.

 

  
A weight falls onto his shoulder, drawing Ariga out of his book to look over to his side. He nearly gets a nose full of fluffy hair when Ariga sees Mamiya leaning nearly his entire weight into Ariga’s side.

Soft snores slip out of Mamiya’s slightly parted lips and Ariga finds himself not surprised that his Messiah fell asleep so suddenly. Lately, Mamiya has been spending extra time in the training room, not wanting to fall behind or become a hinderance on a mission (even though Ariga never thought of Mamiya as anything but an equal). Still, Ariga makes a mental note to remind Mamiya about watching for his own health and getting proper sleep.

Without trying to move too much, Ariga reaches over and carefully extracts the book that's slipping out of Mamiya's weak grasp. He folds the corner of the page, shuts the book and sets it aside. Not once did Mamiya stir in his sleep, making Ariga wonder if he's more exhausted than he let on.

With no book occupying Mamiya's hands anymore, they sort of hang limp in his lap. One in particular is resting on both of their legs that were pressed up against one and another. Now Ariga doesn't know if he's being curious or if he's losing his mind, but he sets aside his own book and carefully, very carefully, brushes his fingertips across Mamiya's own.

Oddly enough, it doesn't come off as a surprise when Mamiya's finger pads felt rough. It comes along with long hours of fight training and handling guns, and then when they're not busy Mamiya's fingertips are plucking away at violin strings.

Ariga idly taps at the fine, smooth point of Mamiya's nails. Then the next moment they trail down and follow his Messiah’s bony fingers to his calloused palm. It’s warm, a very comforting warmth that draws Ariga into slipping his fingers in between Mamiya’s own. He keeps a very loose hold on the other’s hand, as if afraid that anymore pressure would disturb his sleeping Messiah.

After a while he starts to get drunk off of the warmth that Mamiya is emitting that eventually he closes his eyes and let’s consciousness slip away.

(It was then three days later when Ariga learned that Haku took a photo of them napping against each other and – _even worse_ – found out that Eiri was using that photo as his phone background.)

 

  
“Sorry…” Mamiya whispers in shame, keeping his eyes down to clearly avoid the dark look on Ariga’s face.

People get hurt in this line of work, Ariga knew that, but that didn’t mean he had to like it when he’s carefully rolling bandages around Mamiya’s shoulder. Luckily their last mission was a success, with the small sacrifice of Mamiya getting his shoulder grazed by a bullet when they ran into a small scuffle with enemy targets.

It’s just a flesh wound, Ariga would keep repeating in his mind when he finished securing the bandages. He turns away to pack away the medical kit, and then shoves all the bloodied tissues and towels off of the bed and into the waste basket. Finally an exhausted sigh slips out when Ariga lets the tension leave his shoulders, and then he falls back until his back hits the bed with a small bounce.

“Be more aware of your surroundings,” Ariga says as he closes his eyes and lets his hand feel around the bed until they find Mamiya’s hand. For a moment he just leaves his hand there, resting on top of the other’s.

“I already said sorry,” Mamiya lips curl into a small pout, even though Ariga couldn’t see it.

Ariga doesn’t say anything, letting silence fill the air, and his fingers start to tap against the back of Mamiya’s hand. Eventually he stops so that he could turn over Mamiya’s hand and lace their fingers together. His Messiah’s hand is warm in his (not cold or slick with blood dripping down his arm) and Ariga feels like he can finally breathe.

Mamiya makes no comment on the way Ariga holds onto his hand like a lifeline, which Ariga is thankful for that. Instead, Mamiya slowly lowers himself so that he’s laying on his side (his good side, of course). This time his voice is more genuine when he says, “Sorry for worrying you... again.”

The last bit earns a small huff from Ariga and he turns his head while opening his eyes to stare back at Mamiya laying next to him.

Now Ariga has always thought of himself as a decent person.

Except for the fact that since childhood he’s grown up with bloodstained hands, a kill-count of one too many, and feeling the need to always keep a gun attached in one hand. He’s done a lot to make him wonder if he deserves to hold this warm hand, if he’s allowed to cling onto this soft, gentle warmth that is Mamiya Seiren.

But when he feels Mamiya gently squeezing his hand in comforting reassurance, Ariga let’s himself be selfish, for once, and hold on.

**Author's Note:**

> my friend and i were ruined by how nice someya's hands are
> 
> so this is inspired by my friend's cute headcanon which was that ariga probably plays with mamiya's hand without realizing it


End file.
